Novels by Eagle Dira

ALEKSANDER All my life, I have thrived on control and self-discipline. Power is discipline. It is the knowledge that men twice your age would lower their heads because they know you have their future in the palm of your hand and can easily decide to crush them. I've built my life on that, self-control, I mean. I have never twitched, never lost it, never snapped. Until him.The fireball of a man who barged into my life and made it unbearable to think without envisioning him. I've never wanted to see my knife buried in someone's chest as much as I want it in him. But that's not the part that bothers me. It's the fact that I see him everywhere that really gets on my nerves. When I close my eyes, he's there. When I wake up he's there, and the worst part?, I've had more hard-ons than I can count within the past few weeks, and they're all because of him. Nico is a problem I never asked for but somehow have to deal with. Usually, I would have silenced him by now, got rid of him and mov

NICOI jolt awake, my heart pounding in my chest. Everywhere is fuzzy and I'm disoriented. It's the same nightmare, same eyes, same voice, same place and the same person. The same dream I've had a million times since I was fifteen. You'd think I would have gotten used to it by now, but I'm not. Every night, it's the same dream, each one worse than the last. But I'm not there, and I've moved on. Right?I lay there, staring at the ceiling, sweat sticking to my shirt. My brain replays the event like it’s currently happening. I squeeze my eyes shut to chase it all away, but that doesn't work. With a sigh, I get up and enter the bathroom.I splash cold water on my face; it works for now. I can't have these stupid nightmares hinder my purpose of being here. I head downstairs to get coffee. I would have gone for scotch; hell, I still might. At the bottom of the stairs, the sound of music from the gym greets me. Sasha. Of course. I wonder how long he's been awake. He's always in the gym

NICOThe water is hot enough to sting, just the way I like it. The steam curls around me and blurs the tiled room. My head tips back and the spray pounds against my neck and shoulders, grounding me. I contemplate closing my eyes and falling asleep right here in the shower because… why not?I've done it before, back then, when it got so bad. I actually slept under the shower that day, to see if it could wash away all my sins, but it didn't. I should be thinking about a dozen other things. My dwindling list of allies, how long I can push Sasha before he decides I’m not worth the oxygen I’m stealing or the main reason I was sent here. Instead, I'm thinking about that day, that place. Him. Then I feel it.The prickle at the back of my neck.You know the feeling when someone’s eyes are on you, heavy enough to press into your skin. Like a predator watching its prey, but the thing is, I’ve never been good at being prey.I turn my head just enough to see him.Sasha. Well, colour me surpri

ALEKSANDERSome people start their mornings with coffee, or a motivational song to prep them for the tasks ahead. Not me, though, the universe has decided that I will start my morning with a nuisance that smiles. And oh, he goes by the name, Domenico.He's like a song I hate that’s stuck on repeat, loud and annoying and stuck in my fucking head. I’ve met assassins with less commitment than he has to being under my skin. He's been going at it for the past four days, and I'm this close, this close to saying fuck all and snapping his neck. For the plot. It's not anything obvious at first, not a single moment I can point to and say, That’s when I lost it. It's smaller things, stacked on top of the other until all I can see is crimson. It's how he talks too much, even in places where silence is supposed to be the rule. The way he watches me like he's making a mental note of every bone in my body, like he's undressing me. And he's not in any way subtle about it. There's no sense of se

NICOCHAPTER 3: THE SASHA PROBLEMNICOThe first thing I notice when I wake up isn’t the sunlight or the birds or whatever poetic crap normal people notice.It’s my dick.And it’s very, very awake.I lie there for a minute, staring at the ceiling like maybe the ceiling will explain why I’m starting my day like this. It doesn't. Morning wood is supposed to be random biology, right? Well, mine’s got a name, an address, and an ego the size of RussiaSasha.Why the hell would it be him?I glare at my dick “Seriously, dude?”My subconscious has apparently decided to run an exclusive early morning Sasha programme. Broad shoulders, lean waist, arms that could snap me in half but probably wouldn’t because he enjoys dragging it out. I can practically feel the weight of him, the heat. And those hands…God, those hands. Big enough to palm my throat. Strong enough to hold me there. I squeeze my eyes shut, and yeah, that’s a bad idea, because now I’m picturing it.And now I’m doing something abo

NICOCHAPTER 2: BABYSITTER FROM HELLNICOThe worst part about riding in a car with Sasha is not the silence.It's the fact that he makes the silence feel like a knife, scraping my skin and baring my soul. The guy is not even moving. And I already feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I close the video on my phone. Half because I’m bored and half because I’ve been waiting for him to crack and the subtle tightening of his jaw tells me he’s getting close.“That was… disturbing,” he mutters, eyes on the road.I smirk. “What? A little vintage leather and chains offend your delicate sensibilities?”He doesn’t bite, not exactly—just lets his gaze flick to mine in the rearview for a fraction of a second. Enough to make my pulse quicken and my grin widen. The man could gut me with a glance… or do something considerably more enjoyable. And I don't know why that excites me more than it terrifies me. “Try something less… grotesque next time,” he says, voice as flat as a blade.“So you do look for